Still Here
by Vivere La Vita
Summary: She loved him-but never spoke up about it. And now-he's still here-but on a wedding invite next to the oh-so-perfect Lily Potter. RW/SM/LP


**Title: **Still Here

**Summary: **She loved him-but never spoke up about it. And now, he still there-but on a fancy wedding invite next to Lily Potter.

**Rating: **T, for language, jokes, and humor…not that it would actually stop anyone from reading.

She. Is. An. Ugly. Piece. Of. Bloody. Shit.

My eyes tore themselves from the floor to stare up at her flawless face, smiling and laughing in the camera, but I never have to look towards her to actually see every feature imprinted in the back of my eyelids. Lily Potter has always been one of the lucky witches, I suppose. Flawless, thick auburn hair trailing down a perfectly toned Qudditch body, a perfect, dazzling smile-

She. Is. An. Ugly. Piece. Of. Bloody. Shit.

Some things just stay the same, don't they?...and yet…I'm still here, plain Rose Weasley.

Every time I stare at her glossy reflection, (my eyes hate me), her slim frame, perfect hazel eyes, I had a vision of tearing her apart, piece by piece, her high-pitched screams echoing from England to America, where I sat, in a class dorm in NYWU (New York Wizarding University). She sickened me in every single way, and not because she was evil or cold hearted. It seemed just the opposite. Stunning talent, great brains, she was one of those girls that people like me secretly envied from a distance-you know, the ones with the slightly better-than-you-accent and you can't help but feel insecure whenever you're near them. I was just one of those girls that every boy avoided like I had A.I.D.s or something (fat chance of that ever happening), all except for one. She could have had EVERY SINGLE boy wrapped around her fingers, but she had to take this one toy. And it was all because of me-because _I_ had wanted him, she got him. Because for her, it's just that easy. It was always that easy. Lily Potter just breezed through life with everything handed to her.

Indifference is a cover that I use, the worn-out jacket that's starting to disintegrate from my grasp.

In all reality, they would have made a great couple. A fantastic couple, really. The power duo to end the Potter-Malfoy feud. A romantic, Cinderella-worthy wedding with long, flowing trellises of lace and towering wedding cakes. The paparazzi would have soaked this up, spreading it amongst themselves like flies over honey. That is, if I had never been born.

Because you see, Scorpius Malfoy is just as flawed as ever single person in this world, which, unfortunately, almost no one could ever really understand. He wasn't perfect. But I loved him for every flaw he had, every annoying little habit he was found of. He loved his coffee black, without cream, because he often drinks and needs something to wake him from his drugged stupor first thing in the morning. He loves Qudditch (Chaser), but feels as if he's just playing the role his parents want him to, and that he's just a pawn on a chessboard, which he is rather good at. He reads books as fast as he can chug Firewhiskey (which is very fast, mind you). And he doesn't admire those new, Wizarding books that are starting to appear in bookshelves with the modern, snappish grammer. He likes Muggle books. Classical Muggle books. George Orwell. The Lady in the Looking Glass. Black Beauty. The whole shebang. It's how we bonded, anyways. Books and Firewhiskey, Literature and Adrenaline, because we refused to live our lives bounded by rules, because he would send me a Christmas present in the middle of July or Valentine's Day flowers on Februrary 13th-it was all because _he could._

But only I was ever able to see the most of him; only I was able to be his best mate, the shoulder to cry on, the advice-giver, the defender.

Sometimes I wished that we had been more.

And sometimes I wish that he wasn't always such a closed door.

He's open, he's funny, and he told me _everything_. So why, after three months of regular correspondence (via owl) did he just somehow forget to amid his ramblings on Qudditch and summer to mention that he was getting _married?_

Did he have to pick someone so perfect?

So beautiful?

So well-mannered?

So…BLOOD RELATED?

It's horrible that I'm feeling jealous. I should be happy for them…for _him._ I should be helping to pick out which sort of silverware corresponds well with the tablecloth, and all sorts of mindless blather that is put into a wedding.

I pretend to not care most of the time…about anything really, (it's just oh-so-easier to pretend that everything is rainbows and sunshine in a family that is over-obssesive) but it just seems that jealousy and anger and regret find a back door to my mind every time I shove it out of my stream of thoughts.

Sanity is so overrated.

I glanced down at my lifeless auburn hair, too short and stringy to be considered beautiful in the mirror hanging across my desk. Thick, shimmery black eyeliner outlining moody eyes, baggy clothes, a snappish attitude, and the ability to punch anyone that got in my way was not enough, I guess.

Am I always this melodramatic? Actually, today had been…wonderful. I received a paper with top marks, the professor remarking about how talented I was…blah blah blah…probably because I was a Weasley, and not just Rose. It was always the surname, never the first, because my parents accomplished something I could never even compare to. And when I Apparated back, full of goody-goody happiness, I noticed an owl sitting there, right on my windowsill, pecking at the glass with a delicate little beak.

And that was when my life took a head-first plunge into the abyss.

I was waiting for _someone, _anyone, really, to jump out and yell, "Surprise!"

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock. Believe it or not, the shock hasn't worn in to the point where I'm not still waiting.

_Bloody hell._

The wedding is in a week.

_Seven days._

And he couldn't even tell me first-because I wasn't special enough, because he didn't care.

I should calm down, think slowly, breathe. Patience is the best virtue…that I never mastered. I took a deep shuddering breath, shivering with the cold air passing through the open window and snowy owl perched on the sill. I hesitated before tossing the silver-embossed wedding invitation into the fireplace, the sharp, clean edges curling into ash, and shooing the bird of prey out of my dorm with empty talons.

There's a bloody wedding that needs to be ruined.

And I'm doing this because the constellations forbid it, because Venus doesn't align with Mars this time of year, because I'm doing what's best for him, and because deep, deep, in my heart, I know that Lily doesn't read George Orwell, that she has no idea that his favorite coffee strong and black, and because I know that if I don't stop it, no one will.

I've been waiting all my life for him to see me.

But I guess time's up, isn't it?

And who better to trust in a suicidal-wedding-annihilation-mission than myself, Rose Weasley, Queen of Chaos?

**Author's Note: **** Only the beginning, still more to come. Please Review! **


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